Sarah vs Sarah vs Sarah vs Freya vs Sarah vs Sa
by The Cabal
Summary: Two Sarahs walk into a bar. Hilarity ensues.


**A/N: **_So in the way that a snowball gathers snow as it's rolling so that when it hits you on the bunny trail at Aspen, it's a friggin' avalanche—yeah, this story didn't happen like that. It started simply, _**mxpw** _and _**Frea O'Scanlin**_ riffing on how mean they are to their Sarahs in _**Chuck Vs. the Double Agent **_and _**What Fates Impose**_. And how those Sarahs would have a lot to complain about if they ever were to, say, meet up in a bar and start drinking. _

_Then _**crystal(dot)elements **_got into the fun. And what's a story about Sarah without the most popular Sarah of them all—the Adorable Psycho? So _**Wepdiggy **_stopped by to show them all how it was done. Right around then, _**Frea**_, realizing that they were just missing one cabal member, used her powers for good to stir _**Liam **_into adding his own brand of perversion and awesomeness to the story._

_And this short little story was born. We hope you enjoy, Dear Reader. Though we don't recommend drinking while you read this, unless it's an alcoholic beverage. If that's the case, drink up, me hearties, yo ho!_

**Disclaimer**: _Frea is not a pirate. Also, we don't own ANY of the things that follow this sentence. Things like dignity, respect, hairbrushes, Q-tips, and Twinkies (_**Wepdiggy **_forgot to buy them for our latest Cabal meeting. Please give him a hard time about that in your review)._

_

* * *

_

**Sarah Vs. Sarah Vs. Sarah Vs. Sarah Vs. Freya Vs. Sarah Vs. Sarah Vs. Sar...**

_By The Cabal_

_

* * *

_

It should have been a dark and stormy night.

Should have been.

If the sensitively-inclined people who could sense major events had been paying any attention to the bar just off of the beach, they would have bemoaned that such a world-rocking incident would happen not in the throes of the world's greatest storm, but on an autumnally cool, pleasant evening with a breeze coming in from the east and most of the town focused on the A's game.

The incident started simply:

Sarah Walker and Sarah Walker walked into a bar.

They shared a name, a face, even a build, but from there, all bets were off the table. One Sarah Walker wore very little—a sports bra, yoga pants, and sweat, a set of sparring gloves clutched in one fist. The other's business suit spoke of smooth lines, smoother promises, and the pleasure side of "Business or pleasure?"

They walked in relative tandem toward the bar. Both ordered drinks. For one Sarah, it was a double shot of Johnnie Walker Black. And for the other, a gin and tonic.

Quietly, they said not a word as they moved toward a corner booth. They both sat, one across from the other. No noise between them but the sipping of their drinks.

Finally, the quiet was shattered by a simple question. "How long has it been?"

Workout Sarah sighed and fingered her glass. The mental calculations flew fast in her eyes. "Twenty months, I think."

Business Sarah nodded her head stiffly. "Yeah, been there. Passed that like...God, I don't even know. All I know is it's like the Sahara down there, barren and lifeless."

"I hear you there."

They both took a long drink. Perhaps the bartender recognized the sort of depraved desperation. Or maybe he just feared blondes with _that _look in their eyes. He refilled their drinks in record time.

"So what's on your mind?" Workout Sarah, unsurprisingly, was the first one to break the silence. When Double Agent's Business Sarah gave her a "What are you doing look?" she shrugged a little. "I all but live with a guy who won't shut up. You'd think I'd want quiet on my off-hours, but apparently not. So, other than the fact that certain regions are starting to rust for both of us—what's on your mind?"

DA Sarah shrugged back, exactly the same way. The bitch from that Fates story had a point. "Same thing as always."

"Yeah, he's a problem, isn't he?"

"Stubborn."

"Never does what you tell him to."

"I don't understand half of what he's talking about. Like, ever."

"Still have no idea what a 'Firefly' is other than a bug. Or why I'm supposed to like it."

"Oh, I saw that one on Wikipedia. It's this show where—"

"Oh. A TV show. Where does he find the time? I swear—"

"Trust me," DA Sarah interrupted. "Given how much time he's spent resisting my advances alone, he's had _plenty _of time."

Fates Sarah swirled her whisky in its short glass and snorted. "If he'd look away from that stupid computer screen or TV or whatever the hell he spends all day staring at, I'd be more than happy to give him a show, but noooo. Well, another show. Ha." She rolled her eyes. "This is all Frea's fault."

DA Sarah made an "mm-hmm" noise in the back of her throat. "Freaking Frea O'Scanlin. All her fault."

"Wait a second, your author's not Frea. Your author is mxpw."

"Weird name," DA Sarah snorted.

"Actually, it's not. It stands for—"

The Sarah in the business suit lunged across the table, slapping a hand over the woman in workout gear's mouth. "Do you want me to _never _get laid? Shut up! If people find out what his name really means, he won't finish the story, and then I will never get my sexy times, do you understand me?"

Since the woman's eyes were far beyond manic and frightening, the Sarah from Fates had no choice but to nod, somewhat fearfully. "Right. Right, sorry," she said when she could talk again. "But I still don't understand. Frea's there to make _my _life hell. She told me so herself. What's she got to do with you?"

"I don't really understand it myself," DA Sarah explained. "All I know is that I often hear him muttering to himself, 'It's all Frea's fault.' He just repeats it over and over again. And then I don't even get to see Chuck for like two chapters."

Fates Sarah nodded her head absently. Then she sat up straighter, eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute, Frea hadn't even been assembled yet, so I don't see how it could possibly be her fault."

"Time machine."

"Time machine?"

DA Sarah nodded her head and took a long pull off her drink. "It makes perfect sense."

"How does that make perfect sense? Do you think if time machines were readily available, I wouldn't have found one and traveled forwards in time to where I was getting plowed regularly?"

Suddenly, a loud crash sounded from the other side of the bar. "HEY!" a voice yelled in outrage. "You skanks better not be stealing my lines!"

Simultaneously, two Smith & Wesson guns sprouted in the hands of the Sarahs seated at the bar. The third Sarah—the newcomer—glared at both of them, a small, lethal knife protruding from the space between each of her fingers. She wore a T-shirt that obviously belonged to one Chuck Bartowski, tap-shorts, and heels. She should have looked ridiculous. The slightly unhinged expression beat her to it.

"Really?" DA Sarah, who was much better at drawling of the duo, drawled.

"Going to pit knives against the silver monster?" Fates Sarah asked, always the type to back up her partner, even if it was, um, herself.

The other two gave her puzzled looks. "The…silver monster?"

"Damnit," Fates Sarah swore under her breath. "Look, he's rubbing off on me. At least something is."

By all rights, that should have set off Sarah Number Three, who more often went by initials favored by the Associated Press. It should have started a killing rage that started in Barstow and slowed only once it had passed the Great Wall of China for some Mongolian barbecue. But instead, she muffled an actual laugh. "Rubbing, ha. Why bother with rubbing when you can get plowing any time, day or night or morning or evening or—"

"Hey!" DA Sarah actually snapped her fingers to get the others' attention. "Some of us take what we can get. What's with the knives, though? If you're like the rest of us, you've got a perfectly pretty Smith & Wesson tucked into your waistband."

Adorable Psycho shrugged. "Sometimes you just have to cut a bitch." She plopped down next to Fates Sarah (who edged away slowly) and snapped her fingers, just like DA Sarah, only at the bartender. "Bloody Mary, stat!"

"'Stat?'" Fates Sarah mouthed at DA Sarah, who shrugged.

When the bartender, fearing for his life all over again, delivered the drink, AP took a long, happy gulp. "Had to take out a skank at the post office today," she said conversationally, helping herself to some of the beer nuts. "Bitch was looking at my man. Do you know how hard it is to get a body into one of those blue mailboxes they keep for the outgoing mail? I mean, geez. Thirsty work."

DA and Fates Sarah didn't know what to say to that.

"And then my man's all being a girl about it because I wanted to stuff the bitch in the one painted like R2-D2, whoever the frak that is." AP rolled her eyes, expecting sympathy. "Where does he find the time to _know _all of this stuff? I'm still trying to figure out who's more fuckable, the ninth Doctor or the eleventh Doctor, and he's going on about some guy named Snake Plesskin. What the hell?"

She got a mixture of fear and understanding from her tablemates. "We were just talking about that," Fates Sarah admitted.

DA Sarah, perhaps understanding the way of the psychopath a little more intimately, hurriedly cleared her throat. "We were talking about OUR Chucks," she said, keeping her voice languid, bored, and passively annoyed at her absent man. "Not yours."

"Besides," Fates Sarah said, taking a long slug of whisky and letting it burn on the way down, "it's all Frea's fault."

"Fricking Frea O'Scanlin," DA Sarah echoed.

Adorable Psycho looked at her two companions in something approaching sympathy. Given how much she loved a good plowing…she couldn't even imagine it. But maybe a girl should help her mirrorverse twins out every once in awhile. "Frea's not a brunette, is she?" she asked.

"Well, actually…"

Fates Sarah barely moved, but a knife appeared in her hand nonetheless. "Are you crazy?" she demanded of DA Sarah. To Adorable Psycho: "No offense."

"None taken." Adorable Psycho went back to cleaning her nails with the world's largest hunting knife.

"If our compadre over here kills Frea," Fates Sarah told DA Sarah, "I am _never _going to get some. Ever. We're working past the bunker thing, and his issues, and the fact that his damn therapist is my freaking doppelganger, and if Frea dies NOW, I'll have had twenty months of cold showers for _nothing_, got me?"

DA Sarah's eyes widened. Was this what she looked like when desperate? No wonder Chuck had been able to turn her down so well. "Uh, right," she said, and cleared her throat. In a louder voice, she said, "Isn't Frea O'Scanlin a redhead, didn't you say?"

"Redhead. Right. Uh-huh."

Adorable Psycho looked a mite disappointed at that. "Oh, fine. Just trying to do you a favor."

DA Sarah looked relieved, Fates Sarah a bit squeamish. It may have been that the knife Adorable Psycho was using for hygiene had obviously been used recently.

"Excuse me," Fates Sarah said, standing quickly. "I need to go make a call and tell somebody to go get some freaking hair dye."

She stalked away. When she stalked back less than a minute later, she was dead pale. "What is it?" DA Sarah asked, though she wasn't sure she cared.

"Nothing. Frea just told me her plans for the next chapter."

"Tranquing you wasn't enough?"

"Apparently not, no."

A scoff cut through the conversation, and all three Sarahs spun around, guns (and world's largest hunting knife) at the ready. A fourth Sarah sat a few seats away, swirling her straw in what appeared to be a Shirley Temple. She was suited up in the typical mission gear: black pants, tight leather jacket and hair tied back in a messy ponytail.

"As if you've got it the worst," she muttered sarcastically, glancing at Fates Sarah out of the corner of her eye. "Last chapter I had a drugged up Chuck stripping to his boxers. Did I get some? Ohhh, no. Friggin' Crystal-Dot-Elements had to go and make Casey tranq him right before he could lay one on me." Her eyes flashed. "Three months. _Three months_, and still no update."

Fates Sarah lowered her gun. "Actually, yeah. I've been waiting for the next chapter of that story to come out for a while. What's taking her so long, anyway?"

Closet Gleek's Sarah turned to glare at AP, who gave a nonchalant shrug.

"Guilty." She grinned. "But hey, the Space Mountain sex was totally worth it."

The other three shot her dirty looks.

"Wait, isn't Crystal a brunette?"

The Adorable Psycho tweaked, nearly chopping off the better half of her thumb in the process. Fates Sarah dropped her face into her hands.

"Seriously," she said to DA, who flushed guiltily, "are you _trying_ to slaughter the entire female component of The Cabal? Don't you realize that without Crystal and Frea we're all doomed?"

AP dropped her knife onto the table and took another long swig of her drink. "Eh, I'll let her off the hook for now. She sent me to Disneyland, after all."

CG Sarah gaped at her. "What the hell? Crystal lets you go to Disneyland _and_ plow Chuck on a rollercoaster in the same story?! _Bitch! _Not you, of course, " she added quickly when AP shot her a deadly look.

Fates Sarah furrowed her brow. "Speaking of which," she said to AP, "aren't you supposed to be pregnant?"

"Yep."

"And…you're drinking alcohol."

AP froze mid-sip. "Shit."

Silence. Then:

"Bartender," AP snapped, both figuratively and literally, "get me a fucking Diet Coke." She violently shoved the Bloody Mary off to the side. "Mxpw better update Nine Months soon. If I have to be stuck in perpetual pregnancy for much longer I'm gonna go hormonal and slice that fucktard to pieces."

"You know whose fault this is?" CG said after AP Sarah had calmed down somewhat. "That Frea chick. Ever since she's breezed into town, they've all stopped updating. She's such a distraction."

The other Sarahs murmured their assent.

"She's always talking to them on that chat thing. What's it called?"

"Gtalk?"

"Yeah, something like that. Chuck would probably know."

"Crystal spends hours talking to her about video projects and story ideas and all this other random stuff that never sees the light of day." CG downed the rest of her Shirley Temple in one go. "Meanwhile, I could be getting laid by a recovering PCP victim."

"That bitch is ruining everything!" AP seethed, slamming her fist into the table. "If she weren't a damn redhead…"

"Well, you killed Karen Gillan that one time—"

"DA," Fates roared, "SHUT. UP. I want to get laid! I can't get laid if Frea dies!"

"Wait, why would you kill Freya?" asked a new, but altogether familiar voice, only with a much different accent. The four Sarahs looked up to assess the newcomer. She was a little younger, her hair was slightly darker, and she wasn't quite as fit as they were, but it was undeniably a Sarah.

Or so they thought.

"Everyone's always out to get Freya," the younger model continued. "I swear, if it's not some old guy I banged when I was fifteen, it's his hot blonde bitch of a daughter. And all I want to do is let Heath have his way with me, marry him, and have his babies. But now, I see there are even more people out to crucify me. And you lot are talking about killing me, which means they've stepped up their game."

"What are you on about?" DA asked, annoyed.

"And who is this Heath fellow you speak of?" AP added. "Shouldn't you be sexing Chuck?"

"Chuck?" the younger woman asked. "Wha—who?"

"You're the young Sarah, right?" Fates Sarah asked. "The college bitch that asshole Wepdiggy created? Figured you might make an appearance."

"Hey!" AP spoke up. "He created me! And he lets Chuck plow me. A lot, really. Don't call him an asshole."

"Well, he didn't create you alone," the DA said. "And for the record, mxpwcame up with your name, so really, he deserves a lot of the credit."

"Listen you lot, you still haven't answered any of my questions," the youngest spoke up again. "Who is Sarah, who is Chuck, and why are you all so pissed off at me, Freya Lewis?"

Closet Gleek's eyes went wide. For the first time in a bit, she joined the conversation. "Ohhhh," she said. "I think I see what's happening here."

"You do?" Freya asked.

"Yeah, yeah. See, this is all a misunderstanding. And the wrong fandom, for what it's worth." She paused. "Do they even have _HeadLand_ fan fiction?"

"Guess they do now," Fates answered with a shrug.

"Anyway, yeah, you're in the wrong bar. We're all Sarah Walker, CIA agent. And we're all pissed off at _Frea O'Scanlin_, not Freya Lewis. Sorry about the confusion," Closet Gleek finished.

Freya seemed to consider this for a moment. Then: "Huh, well, fair enough, I guess. I'm sorry to intrude. I'll just run my happy little ass back to Australia and fix my own issues."

AP seemed to study the retreating form of their Aussie visitor as she left. Then just as the younger woman was leaving the bar, she turned to her compatriots. "Her hair was kind of dark, yeah? And the lighting in here isn't that great. You don't think she was—"

"She wasn't a brunette," Fates said, rolling her eyes.

When Freya walked back in, DA Sarah rolled her eyes. "What happened to Australia and your happy little ass?"

The newcomer blinked at all of them. "Wow. Is this really what happens to the brain if you don't have sex by twenty-three? Man, I should just grab Chuck and bang him against—"

"NO!" three Sarahs shouted at once.

Bad-ass super agent, bad-ass double-agent, and bad-ass TV fan or not, they weren't quick enough to stop an Adorable Psycho on the rampage. It took her maybe two, maybe two and a half steps to cross the bar. As it was, the newcomer was lucky she hadn't fully unsheathed the hunting knife by that point. She yelped in surprise as she went back into the doorjamb, AP's hand around her neck. "Back off, bitch," AP breathed, her voice fueled by the very demons of hell itself.

"Psycho, no!" Closet Gleek surged forward. "She's talking about HER Chuck, not yours!"

AP didn't even spare her a glance. "I've made corpses prettier than you," she told the blonde against the door jamb, "and I've killed for a lot less. A hell of a lot less!"

"That's not Freya Lewis, that's the Sarah from College Years! Look, you can practically smell the virgin fumes."

"Wh-what?" CY Sarah asked, as DA and Fates went, "Ohhhhh."

DA cleared her throat, sounding regretful that she was about to apply logic. "Yeah, AP, doesn't make sense for you to kill her and not the rest of us."

"My title has the word 'Psycho' in it. I'm not required by any law or contract to MAKE sense."

"Poor girl hasn't even had the chance to GET laid, much less spend months not getting laid," Fates argued. The other Sarahs gave her looks that ranged from, to borrow an Internet term, "WTF?" to "WTF, Freak?"

"Killing her now would just be an act of cruelty even beyond you, AP," Fates went on. "Here, I'll buy you another dri—Diet Coke." The fact of the matter was, AP looked exactly like the rest of them, which meant that to imagine her being pregnant was like imagining herself pregnant...and it would be mightily unfair to be pregnant without going through the steps first, damnit. So she'd just put that particular point into a very scary corner of her mind, where she wouldn't have to think about it at all unless drunk or dying. Even if she did hope her someday spawn got their father's eyes.

Something in Fates's argument must have gotten through, for AP sniffed and released her hold on the petrified CY Sarah. She tossed the younger Sarah to the side like a rag doll and stalked back to the bar, muttering about how she could be getting plowed right now instead of dealing with a bunch of assholes—damn gorgeous ones or not.

CY Sarah landed on her feet, one of those pesky benefits of youth, and stared around, wide-eyed. "Do-does pregnancy make you super-strong or something?" she asked the other amassed Sarahs.

DA shrugged and signaled to the bartender that her glass was empty. "I figure it's the regular plowing that gives you strength like that. Not that I would know anything about it—thanks ever so, mxpw." She raised both her newly-filled drink and her middle finger to the ceiling.

Suddenly, a new, but terribly familiar voice called out: "God, will you bitches stop your sniveling?"

All eyes turned to find this voice. They found it in the corner, isolated at a booth. None had noticed her presence beforehand. The lighting was minimal, the figure obviously lurking in the shadows. And when the figure emerged, it was in a cloud of smoke.

"Oh boy," Closet Gleek moaned.

"Hey, hey!" AP gleefully shouted. "There's my bitch! Where you been?"

This new figure, yet another Sarah, flicked aside her cigarette stub only to light up a fresh stick. "You know me. I like to find the darkest corner and lurk."

CY Sarah looked to DA and Fates. "I don't get it. Who is she?"

It was DA who glumly stated, "That's Liam's Sarah. The one who makes _us_ look like the life of the party."

"I thought Liam's Sarah was kind of out there," Fates noted.

"She is, on occasion," DA replied. "Sometimes she's all AP. Most of the time, I don't get her at all."

"Didn't he do that AP rip-off series, too?" Closet Gleek asked.

"Yeah. It paled in comparison," DA said. "But Liam prefers to make her brooding and fucked up. MXPW is always saying how Liam's a twisted son of a bitch. I think who you're looking at is RTI Sarah with a little Lonely Child mixed in."

"Does anybody even remember RTI?" CG asked.

DA snorted. "I do. But that's mostly because MXPW won't stop shutting up about how Rachel is Chuck's soulmate." She watched in satisfaction as the other Sarahs bristled at the insinuation. "Asshole."

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, AP and Liam's Sarah were engaged in a little mouth to mouth exercise.

"Did I mention Wep and Liam are big into lesbians?" DA said. She lifted her drink to her lips and took a long pull. "Hell, I wish MXPW were big into something. I'd take DA Carina over my hand any day at this point," she muttered. It wasn't like anyone was paying attention anyway, they were all staring at AP and LS demonstrate their oral dexterity.

AP Sarah finally came up for air and grinned at LS. "You never come see me anymore."

"I never see anyone anymore," LS pointed out. "My guy hasn't written jack shit in ages. He was writing a second AP story that would have seen us do some freaky shit. And then just as Chuck and I were getting together in RTI, the bastard stopped writing." LS took a deep drag off her smoke and offered to AP. "Want a hit?"

"Wish I could. But that's apparently bad for the spawn," AP said.

CG shrunk into the corner and sipped her Shirley Temple. "Liam's Sarah kinda scares me a bit."

Fates shuddered. "Hell, I think she scares all of us." She paused and watched AP stick her tongue back down LS's throat. "Well, some of us, at least."

DA chuckled. "She's got nothing on her author. Some of the things he says..." DA trailed off, seemingly unsure about what to say next. "I think it's his fascination with horror movies. It's probably why he wants to write screenplays. Of course, the dude's got the attention span of a goldfish, but when he actually concentrates...wow."

The rest of the Sarahs rejoined the table. Liam's Sarah ordered a bourbon, a scotch, and a beer and then lit her third cigarette. "To be fair, guys, it isn't all Liam's fault. Frea's got him all distracted. Ever since they met and he learned they're from the same neighborhood, he hasn't been the same."

"Frea Fucking O'Scanlin," AP said, sipping on a Dr. Pepper. Then, turning back to LS, "Wanna go fuck in the ladies room?"

LS thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Okay. The fucked up childhood Liam writes for me would allow it. I ever tell you about that aborted fic he wrote that would have me fucking a Czech music professor 15 years older than me? And I was gonna be nineteen."

"Didn't he have you with some old guy in a couple fics?" Fates asked.

"MXPW really hates that guy," DA added.

"Yeah..." LS drawled, not really paying attention to anything DA, and by extension, MXPW, had to say. "Liam's weird like that." LS then turned to CG. "Hey..."

CG shrieked in fear. "You scare me a little."

DA leaned in and whispered to Fates. "Which is ironic, because Liam is really a pussy cat." DA and Fates watched in amusement as CG could barely sit still. Then DA continued, "Liam crushes on Crystal so hard. And mxpw thinks that's just a riot because Liam is always falling all over himself."

"Okay..." LS frowned, the focus abruptly back on her and AP. "Just watch my drink for me." To AP she said, "Come on. Let's get me some pussy since Liam's never gonna update RTI again."

Before they could go, DA called out, "Hey, AP, I thought you didn't cheat on Chuck?"

AP shot her an incredulous look. "I'm not cheating. I'm having sex with myself. There's a whole other term for that. So long as I tape it and send it to Chuck, it'll just be like any other Tuesday."

As those two Sarahs left, LS threw over her shoulder to CG, "Oh, tell Crystal that Liam says hi."

CG shrieked again and ducked under the table.

DA lowered her head under the table to look at CG. She arched an eyebrow and scolded, "Get out from under there!"

CG squeaked, "But I don't wanna!"

DA sat back up and looked at Fates. "Even the virgin has got more balls than that one."

CG's head bounced into the bottom of the table. "Hey!"

"If you're gonna be down there on your knees, you might as well make yourself useful," DA said.

Fates rolled her eyes. "God, not you too."

DA looked back at Fates innocently. "What? Do you know how long it's been since I last got laid? I bet you that other than the virgin, I've gone the longest here without an orgasm by my own hand."

Fates suddenly started to look wildly around the bar. "What the hell? When did MXPW turn into Liam?"

"I resent that!"

CG finally climbed out from under the table and glared at Fates and DA. "You both can go to hell."

From off in the distance, CY yelled, "Yeah!"

"What did I do?!" Fates said. She scowled at DA. "As if I didn't have enough trouble with Frea treating me like a yo-yo, now you're turning everybody against me."

CG straightened her jacket with a huff. "Sorry, just dealing with some issues." She turned to DA. "And for the record, I do own a pair, thank you very much. Liam's Sarah just creeps me the hell out. Crystal says it has to do with parallels or something like that." She paused, nose crinkling. "Or maybe it was something about being handcuffed to a leopard print bed. I can't remember. I just get a weird vibe."

CY suddenly appeared beside the three Sarahs, a confused look on her face. "Where the heck was I a second ago?"

DA shrugged. "Somewhere off in the distance, I think. Frankly, I don't even know how you're here. What are you, 18?"

"I'm 22!"

"Well, you might as well be 18," DA said with a snort. She motioned towards the bartender. "Virgin daiquiri for the girl over here. Emphasis on the 'virgin.'"

"Hey!"

"What?" Fates attempted to look innocent. "You are. Drink your kiddie pop while the grown-ups have a talk, mmkay?"

CY scowled. "I'll have you know I'm in a very vulnerable state right now and I could use all of the emotional help I can get. Freaking Frea O'Scanlin convinced Wepdiggy to put off my chances of getting laid in the near future, and you can all see I'm an emotional wreck, and I need help."

Crickets chirped as all of the other Sarahs amassed at the bar looked completely unimpressed. "So?" DA Sarah finally ventured for the lot of them. "What are you expecting us to do about it?"

"You've been there!" CY Sarah looked desperately around to each Sarah. "You've been in my shoes! Help me, give me advice."

"Bitch," DA said, finishing off her gin and tonic (the others weren't sure which number gin and tonic this was; they'd learned early on that when a woman has _that _look in her eye, you don't get between her and her drink), "none of us have been in your shoes, so just cut it out."

"But didn't you—"

"None of us got to meet Chuck Bartowski at 22, before things started drooping, so you'll get no sympathy from us."

The bartender placed a Virgin Strawberry Daiquiri in front of CY Sarah. She stared into it, her chin trembling slightly, before she sighed and downed half of it, alcohol or not. Immediately, she smacked a palm to her forehead. "Brain freeze! Brain freeze! Son of a bitch!"

The rest of the Sarahs burst out laughing. "So young," CG said. "So innocent."

"I hate you all," CY said, and stalked away without paying for her drink.

DA cackled as the younger Sarah left. "When it happens, I'm told that the advice is generally, 'Just lie back and think of England!'"

"Really?" Fates wanted to know.

DA shrugged. "Hell, I was fifteen and it was in the back of a 1970 Dodge Challenger with a guy whose name I can't even remember."

Fates squinted. "Was that you or is Frea getting mxpw and Liam confused again?"

"Not sure how that's possible," CG put in, "as—wait a second. Frea is writing this? Freaking Frea? Freaking Frea O'Scanlin, who ruins everything?"

"Yup. I recognize it because I suddenly want to go out and start humping Chuck's leg." Fates rolled her eyes. "Should probably warn you, though. She's not good with endings. She just tends to—"

END OF CHAPTER ONE.

FADE TO BLACK.

* * *

"See?" Fates's voice cut through the darkness. "Just like that."

* * *

**Crystal's A/N**: _Credit goes to **Frea** and **mxpw** for coming up with this whopper, but of course we all had a blast writing it. One GoogleDoc and several days later, this is the kind of crack you get from The Cabal. Hope you enjoyed. ;) Stay tuned!_


End file.
